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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326902">Remedial</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/omobot/pseuds/omobot'>omobot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Barebacking, Consensual Sex, Established Pining, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Thirsting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Service Top Sylvain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:41:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/omobot/pseuds/omobot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, and Claude and Sylvain are (finally) gonna get some.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Remedial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this was written for the following prompt on the <a href="https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=237532#cmt237532">kink meme</a>: <i>Claudevain, impulse kissing leading to sudden hasty sex...</i> (please exercise due caution if you click the link!)</p><p>unfortunately being horny does not mean being good at writing smash, but just pretend Claude has devised or acquired magic lube that keeps the engines revving and very conveniently solves all other unspecified improbabilities herewith.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The war is over, barracks emptied and dining hall brimming with raucous celebration. Garreg Mach boasts a semblance of its former prosperity, careful rationing temporarily suspended in lieu of a proper feast. Wine flows freely from the cellars' stores, and the monastery fills with the aroma of fresh bread and braised meat, baked fruit and hearty soups.</p><p>Even Claude is drinking, Sylvain notices, his own inebriated gaze resting variably on the budding color in the young lord's cheeks. There are several emptied cups in front of the master tactician, only one of them his own and the rest cheerfully foisted upon him—congratulatory offerings from deer and allies alike for a hard-won victory. He doesn't have a chance to look away before Claude catches him peering, and his company is requested with a crooked finger.</p><p>"Gemme outta here before I get sick," is Claude's barely articulate plea when Sylvain answers his summons. Sylvain leans himself bodily on the table in front of him, and Claude possibly takes his amused silence as reluctance, as he continues with drunken gravitas, "You're the only one left, Gautier."</p><p>Sylvain has been taking stock of their mutual comrades throughout the evening, and it's just as Claude says. They're either eating or drinking themselves under the table, or a very foolish combination of both. (He can't blame them. It's been ages since they've had the luxury of trading their troubles for queasy stomachs and self-induced stupor.)</p><p>He hums, pretending to really mull over the request as he pries Claude's current cup from his half-hearted grip, polishing off the rest for him. He sees Claude absently licking his lips, green eyes trained on him, and it makes his pulse wobble in this throat. Claude must know by now there's very little Sylvain would decline to do for him, because the other man simply waits for him to finish, slouching adorably in his seat from the inescapable pull of gravity.</p><p>Sylvain doesn't really care about the wine. He sets the drink aside and offers Claude a friendly wink, along with his hand, arm and shoulder for him to grapple onto.</p><p>"C'mon, big shot."</p><p>---</p><p>Claude is not steady on his feet, Sylvain only marginally better. But he's got the upper hand in understanding his limits, knowing how much he can imbibe to insinuate an impending blackout while only suffering, at worst, a heavy buzz.</p><p>The evening air is crisp and pleasant, the walk back to the dorms long enough to burn some of the alcohol from their systems, short enough not to turn into an inconvenient obstacle. He's extra careful ushering Claude up the stairs to the second floor, toward their rooms, though his companion does a commendable job himself keeping his limbs moving in a mostly straight line.</p><p>"You gonna make it?" Sylvain asks, chronically adjusting Claude's arm more securely about his shoulders. He's met with a mumble and a tipsy nod. Claude hiccups quietly, dark stubble scratching faintly as his head bobs. He's excessively warm where he's pressed against Sylvain.</p><p>"You gotta warn me if you're gonna get my clothes dirty..." Sylvain adds, warranting another nod.</p><p>Fortunately, they make it to Claude's room without incident. It's strangely orderly for once, missing the haphazard disarray of books and miscellaneous papers.</p><p>"Antitoxin," says Claude as he gestures to his drawer.</p><p>Sylvain hums an affirmative and shuffles over to retrieve it, though he pauses when he finds far more... <i>personal</i> effects alongside the bottle in question. Claude reaches past him blindly and paws indiscriminately at the vial of oil that's captured Sylvain's attention, and Sylvain nudges his hand aside with a barely contained puff of laughter.</p><p>"Not that one."</p><p>Claude blinks at him, belatedly realizing his mistake. It's difficult to tell if he's blushing—he's already glowing from the wine. His hand brushes clumsily over Sylvain's again, still searching, and Sylvain captures and laces his fingers between his own.</p><p>"...Antitox'," Claude requests a second time, softly, with a "<i>please</i>." With lips so persuasively poised that they suck the air right out of Sylvain's chest through his aching ribs.</p><p>Sylvain picks up the bottle with his other hand, freeing and discarding the stopper with his teeth. Claude licks his lips again, fingers curling against Sylvain's knuckles in anticipation, and the gesture sparks heat in Sylvain's gut like flint striking steel.</p><p>He did ask nicely.</p><p>Sylvain takes a sip and slots his mouth over Claude's, letting the liquid trickle between their lips.</p><p>---</p><p>It's a ridiculous first kiss, and Claude is not nearly so cautious with it. The antidote spills along either side of his chin as he parts his mouth a little too far to receive Sylvain's favor, an arm winding around his neck to tug him closer.</p><p>"<i>More,</i>" he has the audacity to say, as if he isn't wasting the medicine on purpose to get another dose. He doesn't even bother lapping up the gleaming excess from his lips—but who is Sylvain to deny him?</p><p>"Open wide," says Sylvain before taking another mouthful. This time he twines his fingers into Claude's hair, forcing his head back as he lowers his lips to his. He kisses him deeply, relentlessly, pushing the antidote inside him with his tongue. He releases Claude's hand so he can run his thumb over the rise of his throat and feel him swallow.</p><p>Claude gulps everything down with a shudder, eyes snapping open—and then Sylvain is being shoved against the desk, the contents inside rattling from his suddenly dispersed weight.</p><p>At first he mistakes it for sobered anger, and instantly braces himself for a stinging backhand—but what he finds is <i>hunger</i> instead, a pair of hands eager to get under his clothes, only slightly impeded (yet spurred on) by the residual effects of wild drinking.</p><p>Claude says nothing, whatever quip either of them might exchange replaced with another searing kiss, slightly dampened by the potion but by no means doused. As if the antitoxin isn't neutralizing the alcohol in their bloodstream but effectively igniting it.</p><p>Sylvain twists around his partner to trap him under his bulk, pressing Claude chest-first to his desk with relish. He leaves smoldering kisses along his jaw as he begins to pry his clothes off with practiced efficiency, teeth nipping at the enticing curve of his neck as soon as it's bared. Claude shivers warmly under him, and when he reaches into his drawer this time he fishes out exactly what he means to, palming it off onto Sylvain without explanation.</p><p>The vial isn't completely filled, and Sylvain doesn't have to really guess why or in which ways it's already been used—there are only so many options. He oils up his fingers and entertains one of them, sliding his hand down the cleft of Claude's ass to circle the tight ring of his entrance.</p><p>"The bed would be more comfortable," Sylvain says, the obvious suggestion earning him a sly look.</p><p>"Yeah?" Claude answers, as if he'd never considered the possibility and ended up sprawled over a different piece of furniture by consequence. He can probably sense Sylvain's lingering hesitation, expression turning into something positively devilish. "Don't worry. I'll fuck you properly on the mattress later if you wanna lie down so bad."</p><p>And that's all the reassurance Sylvain needs to slip inside him, working his first finger deliberately to the last knuckle with smug composure as Claude squirms and curses delightfully underneath him.</p><p>---</p><p>Claude doesn't last past three fingers, choking back a whimper as he spends into Sylvain's fist, hips quaking as Sylvain strokes him dutifully through his orgasm with both hands. He peppers his back with kisses, tongues a bead of sweat along the divot of his spine, and whispers sweet nothings against his flushed skin until his writhing subsides. He takes in the sight of his chest heaving against the polished wood, appreciates how his hair, always so purposefully arranged, now splays forward artlessly.</p><p>He releases Claude, who turns to drag him right back into an indulgent kiss, slow and syrupy. Sylvain isn't given a moment's rest, sullying the top of the desk where his palms fall to catch his weight, transferring filth onto his own sleeves as Claude finishes prying his shirt off.</p><p>Heat gradually edges back into the kiss until Claude is panting hotly against his mouth, gaze simmering when they inevitably break for air. His eyes dart down between Sylvain's legs, and Sylvain can feel himself twitch under his playful stare, erection painfully stiff where it's trapped inside his breeches, throbbing since he had his hands full earlier. He wants to sheath himself inside Claude as soon as humanly possible, wreck him until he's a gorgeous mess. He presumes Claude is hoping for the same, the way he scrambles to undo the ties of his pants, tongue skimming his lips as he fishes out Sylvain's cock, fingertips smearing with precome.</p><p>"It's too bad I can only have your dick one place at a time," Claude sighs, and if he hadn't let go of him to retrieve the lubricant Sylvain might have made a disaster of his hands right then and there. His own heartbeat is raging in his ears as he hefts Claude up on the desk, netting a noise of surprise. He spreads him indolently, admiring how his blouse splits around and beckons attention to his chest, how the pale fabric pools under his warm skin and brushes against his own wrists.</p><p>"Trying to work here," Claude protests, forced to still his hands lest he accidentally upends the contents of the vial.</p><p>"You're always working," Sylvain murmurs amicably, nuzzling his neck softly as he presses forward between his legs, sliding the length of his cock teasingly along his partner's. He grinds back and forth in a gentle rhythm, friction eased by the remnants of the hand job he'd given Claude earlier. He smiles when he feels Claude shudder against him. "<i>Relax.</i>"</p><p>He wants to take care of him, pamper him, help him give up control if only for one night. Maybe Claude isn't ready to do that, and Sylvain won't rush him—he'll give him whatever he needs until he's willing to surrender.</p><p>So if Claude needs to personally slick down Sylvain's cock, he'll let him. If he needs to guide Sylvain inside him, he'll follow. If he needs time to adjust, he'll wait. When he needs more (<i>always more</i>), Sylvain will give it to him.</p><p>---</p><p>He fucks him into the desk, wooden slats knocking against the stone wall with each ravenous thrust, the slim margin between them quickly filled with wet heat and noise. Claude gasps, bites, and scratches, and Sylvain pummels him until his heady moans turn into barely suppressed shouts. He pushes his knees wider apart so he can reach even deeper, find the spot that makes Claude curve upward unthinkingly and forces a garbled curse from his lips, that makes him circle his arms possessively around Sylvain's shoulders. He means to stretch him so good that Claude will never want for anyone or anything else between his thighs.</p><p>It's only from years of repeat debauchery that Sylvain can last this long, and when Claude starts keening his name he begins to feel the last threads of his own self-control rapidly unravel, rhythm losing intent as lust overruns his blood, thick and frantic. He takes hold of Claude's cock once more, pressing his knuckles firmly against his belly, the sum of their erratic rocking threatening the integrity of the four-legged structure holding them up.</p><p>"<i>Shit—</i> Claude, I'm close—"</p><p>Sylvain still has enough presence of mind to pull out, except Claude <i>chases</i> him, locking his ankles across his back and shoving their hips flush together before they can separate. He sucks down the swell of Sylvain's lower lip, swallowing his groans as he orgasms inside him. Sylvain is kept there until every last drop has been wrung from him, both their lips turned red and swollen from delirious kisses.</p><p>He finally manages to untangle himself from Claude, though he isn't remotely done with him. He anchors him to the desk firmly by his hips as he repositions himself to take Claude's cock—still very much standing—into his mouth, massaging him with his lips and tongue until his partner finishes down his throat.</p><p>Claude eventually tells him to sit, and when Sylvain complies he slips off the desk and between his legs, mouthing along the soft inner skin of his thigh. He licks him like he's saccharine, taking his time until he's stirred once more. And then he climbs on top of his lap and sinks himself low, oil and come dribbling obscenely down his thighs, body arced with arousal as his lashes flutter shut. He rides Sylvain so vigorously the chair nearly topples over.</p><p>They kiss and fuck their way to bed, and continue in the sheets. Sylvain learns ample ways in which Claude enjoys being taken—rough, gentle, or a provoking sequence of the two. He likes Sylvain's fingers in his hair, at his neck, shoved deep past his lips. Sylvain has him on his knees, hands clamped around his wrist and at his waist, and then twisted onto his side, leg hooked high over his shoulder. He tumbles Claude on his back again, wrenching his hips up so he's half-lifted off the mattress, coming over himself helplessly as he's split over and over on Sylvain's cock.</p><p>He looks, feels and tastes absolutely perfect, and Sylvain pleasures him every way he asks, begs, and demands. (Harder, faster, <i>more</i>.) Claude is insatiable, and so is Sylvain, and they don't stop until they're absolutely replete with ecstasy. Until they've left each other bruised, breathless, and thoroughly emptied.</p><p>---</p><p>There's a tenuous silence in the warm, hazy bliss of their aftermath, the absence of noise and sex allowing space for uncertainty to return. They're left with too many years of want spilled and trapped between them, something fragile and overpowering, as earnest as it is filthy. It's a long time to have spent in seemingly hopeless longing, and there's an understated shock in finally <i>having</i>.</p><p>Claude presses his lips to Sylvain's cheek, a gesture so soft and genuine, careful and knowing it nearly startles tears from him.</p><p>"Thanks," Claude murmurs, his smile tired but blissed around the edges as he strokes a hand lightly down Sylvain's chest. He's asking him to stay without saying it. He melts the walls enclosing Sylvain's heart he didn't realize he'd been reconstructing.</p><p>Sylvain gives him a slanted grin in return, but pulls him closer so neither of them can escape. "Mm? What for?" </p><p>"The antitoxin," Claude says evenly, and they both snicker quietly until the sound is smothered with another sighing kiss.</p><p>"You're gonna need a vulnerary too," Sylvain warns him, rubbing soothing circles along his back, loving the way Claude buries his face against the crook of his shoulder, stubble tickling his skin. How they fit together so seamlessly despite all the years they've lost avoiding intimacy.</p><p>"I'm expecting you to bring me one in the morning."</p><p>"...You sure you don't want it now?" he asks. There's no way his partner can be comfortable in the state he's left him in, even if he's far too skilled at hiding it.</p><p>"And undo all your hard work so soon?" says Claude, and Sylvain has to fight the urge to roll him flat and put in some added effort.</p><p>---</p><p>They clean up as much as they care to, and fall asleep together to stolen kisses and tender caresses, the sounds of celebration distant in their shared slumber. They wake to aching limbs and soft smiles, and much, much more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>they definitely used up all the lube. but Sylvain has more, and Claude gets to rail him as promised and everyone wins. also Claude may or may not have been planning for this for a while... (it's probably the first time his room has been organized since he's had it. he had some downtime before the victory banquet to get ready... Wink.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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